


Homesick Martians and the Mint Field Epiphany

by Macbetha



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roadtrip, M/M, Polar Bears - Freeform, domestic fluff but in a ufo, hella king princess, indie alien gays, neon windbreakers but its not the 90s, never speak to me or my nanobot boyfriend ever again, sexual tension: the travel documentary, twilight soundtrack? twilight soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macbetha/pseuds/Macbetha
Summary: Ikuya will be the first person to admit that he needs a break – a dead-end degree and working in décor retail will do that for you – but he didn’t expect Hiyori to suddenly act on his misery. Next thing Ikuya knows, Hiyori is dragging him through a plane terminal for some self-reflection on the open road, and it’s a little scary how much Ikuya trusts him at 3 A.M. diners and bizarre cornfield coordinates.Long story short, Ikuya learns that being stuck in the cab of a ’96 Jeep with your hot best friend might not be the best way to relax.
Relationships: Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Kirishima Natsuya/Serizawa Nao, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 61





	1. zenith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sagesprouts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagesprouts/gifts).



> hi! thank you for clicking, happy to see you here. 
> 
> this work is for the lovely @sagesprouts; you are such a wonderful and patient friend; your art has that perfect aesthetic that makes me so warm and happy; you write the most heart-wrenching, breathtaking universes. do yourself a favor and indulge in their new free! au "i forge myself" as well as all their natsunao content because it's 20/10 will make you cry in the best way possible. 
> 
> musical themes of this work are [alaska by banks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIVEAQfbI5w) and[ atlas by shannon saunders](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNDqILKqP7I)
> 
> you'll notice there's links throughout the chapter - those will lead you to music you're welcome to listen to as you read. there's also a song at the end if you click on the "+"
> 
> thank you and i hope you enjoy!

* * *

**zenith  
**_noun  
  
_1\. the time at which something is most powerful  
  
2\. the point in the celestial sphere directly above an observer 

* * *

[Ikuya](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjpMrep7SgI) feels safest when he's looking at the sky.   
  
The stars are the only thing he can gaze at so forwardly; he's wavered in the face of his own reflection, and no other person has brought forth such awe in his eyes. Ikuya could never be so bold as to look someone directly for more than three seconds, and he does not feel joy when people regard him - their motives, praise, or attraction does not matter.   
  
He cannot fathom how people walk at night without turning their gaze skyward. Most individuals don't have the time nor imagination to view the stars as anything more than a twinkling map of dead fire. To Ikuya, the stars shine, therefore, they must be alive in some form. _"That's fuckin' beautiful, man,"_ Natsuya told him when he voiced these thoughts, once when Ikuya's brother was a drunken teenager and welcomed a little brush with philosophy.   
  
He knows it's bizarre and speaks volumes on his extreme introversion, but the stars don't make Ikuya feel the sick pressure of expectation, nor do they snap at him impatiently to speak up from his wobbly, shy baritone. Ikuya simply looks at the stars and they look back at him in perfect silence. It's a comfort in this burning world.   
  
He knows people won't treat him the same as the sky's precious indifference, but it took him a while to accept that mournful reality. Before high school graduation, he thought his options were as far and wide as the sky itself; the world outside of his hometown was vague, but he was sure that he would be welcomed with open arms once he was an adult.  
  
That was his first mistake. 

* * *

He would have loved to dedicate his life to astronomy, but he predicts he would have been tormented like many art and literature majors, having his heart scraped raw of all passion for what once made him feel alive. Space was dear to him and he wasn't going to let anyone touch or judge or mold his good thing into something cynical and academic, so Ikuya focused on swimming with the assumption that his life would be normal and relatively boring. He was playing it safe; at the very least, he would be guaranteed a comfortable living and a steady income.   
  
Second mistake.   
  
Ikuya was still navigating his life by that foolish motto his first year of college. He was overwhelmed, exhausted to tears, and could not keep up with his classwork. Once upon a time, he was an impeccable student and a prime athlete, but in university, he was considered average at best. Campus was a never-ending maze where it seemed as though everyone knew where they were going; he was petrified of making friends and he didn't understand why normal things were suddenly so impossible.   
  
He was an unhappy, quiet boy, which makes for a wonderful observer. Nobody paid attention to him, which gave him the opportunity to learn that most of his peers were quite boring and their most interesting conversations were filthy at best.   
  
There was only one person who seemed to be as bored with it all as Ikuya was. He sat a few rows in front of Ikuya in Intro to Astronomy, and the boy never asked questions nor spoke up in class.   
  
He intimidated Ikuya. The boy had a threatening vibe, which was a concerning turn-on. It didn't seem as though the boy would shout at anyone, but he carried himself in a way that made it clear he was packing an arsenal of clapbacks that would leave someone spiraling in the middle of the night for at least fourteen years. That energy gave the boy a wide berth of space nobody dared to penetrate.  
  
So naturally, he and Ikuya were partnered up for a project; despite this order, Ikuya still had to choke out if it was all right to sit by Hiyori.   
  
Hiyori smirked, bored with his thighs lazed open in that uncomfortable desk. He wore a gorgeous pea coat with his bedhead, which is standard for 8 A.M. lectures.   
  
Hiyori threw a grand gesture to the empty seats on either side of him, saying, "Take your pick."  
  
Ikuya did so, opting for the left of him, and tried to settle his backpack and notebooks most casually. It was freezing in the lecture hall, but he was clammy. Hiyori twirled his pencil, dropped it on the desk, picked it up again, and that's when Ikuya noticed the slice of pistachio pie. It was drooping in a paper plate on his desk - nobody was supposed to eat in here, and Hiyori was sitting right in front of the professor's desk.  
  
Problem with authority. Yet another concerning turn-on.  
  
Ikuya says, "Did you get that from that cafe just off campus?" He had admired the cakes in the window on his walk to the laundry mat, but he never had the courage to step into that crowded place.  
  
Hiyori nods. "Yeah, it's kind of cold now, though."  
  
"Oh. Sorry."   
  
"What'd you have for breakfast?"  
  
Ikuya just blinks because he's worn this same hoodie to astronomy and all his lectures at least three days in a row. Hiyori should be able to tell that he's obviously a college student with no coping mechanisms and no conscious for taking care of himself.   
  
Hiyori smiles. "Here." He puts the plate right in Ikuya's lap and hands him a dainty fork, then he lazes back in his seat and scrolls through his phone.   
  
Ikuya realizes just how long it's been since he's had a full night's sleep because he should not be feeling like he's at a crossroad of life right now. "Uh. You sure? It was probably expensive..." At least in college terms, anyway.   
  
Hiyori's eyes roll from his phone and he lifts his brows. "Did you want me to feed it to you?"  
  
Ikuya startles his first laugh in months and eats the damn cake.

* * *

Like all first years who are far from home, they become fast friends. Ikuya doesn't attempt to connect with anyone else. His academic career is blatantly standard, from the midnight cram sessions to the weekly existential crisis and all the above, but Hiyori made it special in that sad way all college kindness comes off as.   
  
Once, twice, at least four times they skip class to sneak out onto the dorm roof and watch the stars marinate in the dusk. Ikuya watches the clouds breathe and stretch, yearning to fall into the gaping sky. He is inspired by the grandeur of empty darkness in a way that Hiyori admits is a bit weird, but understandable. Hiyori says, "You ever think about like, a commit hitting the earth and all of us becoming zombies?"  
  
"I don't want to be a zombie," Ikuya alarms.  
  
"Okay, so then everyone's a fire zombie but you and me. What's the plan?"  
  
He considers this thoughtfully, immune to the rough wind since Hiyori's jacket is heavy on his shoulders. "Maybe we get on a boat?"   
  
Hiyori is lying down but props up on his elbows incredulously. "Can you fish?"   
  
"I mean. I've done it before, I think. Probably when I was little."   
  
"So that's a nope. Besides, what if the fish are zombies, too?"   
  
Ikuya nods in earnest. "Good point."   
  
"I say we find a warehouse. Maybe a grocery store or some shit? No, it'd take forever to board up all the windows and I'm way too lazy for that. How do you even find nails in the apocalypse?"  
  
"What if all the nails in the world are on fire?"  
  
"Shit, you're right."  
  
"Maybe we find somewhere to wait it out for a little while? Even if we're the only ones alive, if everyone's a fire zombie, then like." He winces at the harsh reality of imagination. "They'll burn up eventually, won't they? Fires don't last forever."  
  
Hiyori tips his chin, looking hilariously serious. "So we just hole up in an arcade or something?"   
  
Ikuya shakes his head in frustration. "No, that'd be loud." He crosses his legs and plays with his Converse laces. "How about we hunker down at an abandoned farm or something? Zombies probably won't go there. That way there's space, and... and shelter, and we can just hide in the barn and sleep in a hay loft until the first rain comes."   
  
Hiyori doesn't say anything and when Ikuya looks up at him, the boy's voice warms with affection. "So romantic, Ikuya~"  
  
Ikuya could pass out, he blushes so hard because he really didn't mean it like that. At least, not at first. _"It's safe."_  
  
"If you've got a kink for fucking in muddy barns, just tell me. Wanna hear about my kinks? Here, I've got a video playlist on my phone -"  
  
_"Oh my god, no!"_

* * *

Ikuya really did work hard. Every kick in the water was rent with earnest, and Hiyori tried to tell him that failures were mere bumps in the road - fleeting necessities that wouldn't matter once Ikuya was where he needed to be.   
  
Like most dreamers, Ikuya's plans were vague. His zenith became that sole point of success and he lost sight of everything, but Hiyori never left him.  
  
The challenges grew, swelled and became waves, mountains, turning into a foreign geography of confusion and cold nights staring up at the sky, wondering if he was really doing the right thing by going after what he wanted. The concept seemed perfect, but that didn't mean it was possible.   
  
Ikuya can give himself credit for holding on as long as he did. Even after college graduation when people frowned at his swimming, he stubbornly ignored them. Swimmers with half his determination raced their way to success, but when Ikuya got out into the world of international competitions, he realized this path wasn't in his cards - it never had been.   
  
It took him a few years to accept defeat; he followed Natsuya across the globe and racked up a nauseating amount of credit card debt. Hiyori went with Ikuya, probably knowing the whole time that this was never going to work, but he stayed and went in debt too, never faltering when Ikuya needed someone to give him confidence. His presence along with Natsuya's gave Ikuya blind faith, but he was never approached by a coach no matter where on earth he went.   
  
Every fucking day, Ikuya retraces his steps to that moment when failure embodied him - when he was staring into a grimy hotel mirror in a foreign country, exhausted and afraid and done. He went home; Hiyori followed him. Ikuya didn't speak a word to him on that plane back to Japan, and he didn't utter a word to anyone for at least a week.   
  
These days, his world is constant motion, yet it's all so sluggish and disorienting. He is trapped in a kaleidoscope that spins, spins, spins, twisting his brain into a pulled muscle. For eight hours a day, he is in a warehouse that stretch as far as the eye can see, walking all slumped under fluorescent lights that waver and buzz. The same twelve songs play all day, _every day,_ pulling Ikuya closer to the edge of a complete fucking breakdown, and he dives right the hell off that cliff at 5 P.M. at the customer service desk.  
  
A woman is going on about a wreath she's trying to return - she appears gravely betrayed by the texture of the fake leaves and Ikuya marvels at how anyone could think something so fickle is that important. That wreath was not expensive, she does not have a receipt, and there is a line of people scoffing at Ikuya like he's more useless than a torn rubber.   
  
Everyone in that line is going to cuss him out over the same little, devastating things. The woman talks louder, snapping at Ikuya to pay attention, get a manager, he needs to be written up, and something so dark solidifies in his gut.   
  
That's how he finds himself sitting on the curb outside the mall and holding a box of all the clutter that gathered in his work locker over the lifeless years. He is shaking. He is proud that he quit without bursting into tears, but it's coming, and he is still in public. Yet he can't pull his phone out because he's too busy dissociating, staring wide-eyed at some gum on the pavement for at least thirty minutes.   
  
At long last, he calls Hiyori. "I just quit my job."   
  
Silence. There's a busy murmur of conversation in the background because Hiyori works as at a call center, which is truly a level of hell equal to or worse than Ikuya's retail experience. Hiyori says, _"No shit? Was it dramatic?"_   
  
"Yeah, kind of. It was really stupid, but -"  
  
_"No,"_ Hiyori reprimands softly. _"It wasn't stupid. You've never done anything stupid in your life, Ikuya."_   
  
A smile trembles up his face. He rakes a hand through his hair and digs in, trying to keep himself together. "That's a lie, but thanks."   
  
_"It's not a lie. You put your heart into everything, even a goddamn mall manager that shit on you every day. I would have popped him the first day, you know that. I would have southpaw'd that ass."_  
  
Ikuya laughs, he really does, but it comes out like a sob.   
  
_"Look, you tried to make this work. You have tried every single day for so many miserable years. Let's just keep it real, you used your off days to cry and vent and muster up the courage to walk through those doors again. Your tank has been empty for a long ass time."_  
  
Ikuya wipes his nose. "I just - I feel like I should have been able to be okay with everything. Like, why couldn't I just let it go like every other person who's got a miserable job?" He closes his shaking hand into a fist, tucks it between his knees. "It makes me just seem entitled -"  
  
_"Man, cut it out,"_ Hiyori warns. _"I'll have you know Ikuya is my favorite person and I don't like it when people talk shit about him."_  
  
Ikuya laughs and it sounds more like himself. "You're crazy, Hiyori," he whispers among the affection in his anxiety-pounding heart.  
  
_"Thanks. Anyway, want to go to my place and hang out? I don't get off for a few hours but my roommates aren't home; it'll be quiet and you can hold off telling your mom or whatever. You're a free man now. You should celebrate with a nap."_  
  
Ikuya sniffles and takes a few breaths. Hiyori waits, ever patient. "No, I'll just head home - I've got a box of stuff from my locker, so." He chews his lip. "But do you, uh - feel like coming over?"   
  
_"I do,"_ Hiyori says. _"In fact, this sounds like the perfect opportunity to go on my lunch break and accidentally on purpose run out of gasoline when it's time for me to come back."_  
  
Ikuya stands to prop the box on his hip and wobbles toward the bus stop. "You don't have to do that for me. I'd feel guilty."   
  
_"You are not the sole reason in the universe that this job is the equivalent of lying in a tub full of scissors, Ikuya. Please stop being so self-absorbed."_  
  
He smiles and rolls his eyes. "Do what you want, then."   
  
_"I will."_  
  
"I'll pick something up for us on the way home," Ikuya tells him.  
  
Hiyori gasps delightfully. _"You absolute seductress, you know food goes straight to my dick."_  
  
Ikuya laughs and a few people glance at him, but he doesn't care. Hiyori will say the corniest shit if only to haul Ikuya from the endless pit of his head. Ikuya says, "You're gonna get so fired. We've been on the phone too long."   
  
_"I'm pretty sure the dude three desks down from me is also working part time on a phone sex line while he's here, so I wish they'd say I'm doing something wrong. Speaking of people with questionable morals, Nao sent me a postcard."_  
  
"Really? From where?"   
  
It sounds like Hiyori is rummaging through his bag. _"Knoxville, wherever that is. Somewhere in the States, I'm guessing. Apparently they've got a kick-ass aquatic center and he's doing some coach volunteering there so Natsuya can train there for a few weeks."_  
  
It's funny how Natsuya is following someone around the globe now, rather than the other way around. Ikuya supposes it's a give-and-take situation, travelling with Nao and training wherever he takes up a momentary residency. Ikuya hasn't seen his brother in eight months, and during that time, Natsuya's won some big races; after one particularly attractive payout, he and Nao married in Vegas. Natsuya called Ikuya beforehand, said they would wait if Ikuya wanted a plane ticket. Natsuya sounded so hopefully excited - he told Ikuya they could hang out and just chill for a few days, or Ikuya could come along on their travels for a few weeks if he wanted a break.   
  
Natsuya is a good person, but he's never had a real job. Nao might have convinced him (translated: bluntly persuaded) to enroll in an online university, but Natsuya didn't understand that Ikuya couldn't just hop on a plane and leave. _I don't have any vacation days,_ Ikuya said in that gruff way, like he was a serious adult with his shit together (spoiler alert, he did not and everyone knew it, but he could pretend).   
  
Natsuya said, _well, yeah, I get that, but like._ Then he hesitated before sounding very young, as if they were teenagers and he was watching Ikuya breakdown all over again. _I just think it might be good if you, you know. Just get away from it all for a while. You should take care of yourself._  
  
And that's how Ikuya ended up losing it, bursting into tears and blaming Natsuya for everything wrong in the world. _Don't tell me to take care of myself when I needed you, I needed you my whole life and you left, you always fucking do this -_ it was dramatic and childish and horribly inaccurate, but Ikuya had pulled a double that day and he just could _not_ handle anyone else telling him what to do even when that person was his _brother,_ suggesting that he deserved better.   
  
Ikuya might have hung up on him, but he knows in his heart that he made Natsuya cry. He apologized through a text not hours later, but it took Natsuya days to respond. They haven't spoken on the phone since; Ikuya still likes his Instagram photos from his travels, Natsuya still sends encouraging comments on Ikuya's posts about life, but they have not talked on the phone.  
  
Ikuya doesn't blame Natsuya for not calling; Nao was probably the only one who could encourage Natsuya to just let it be - _you know he didn't mean it, he's just lost._ Miraculously, he got Natsuya to that alter and helped him think about something else for a while. Ikuya thanks the universe for Nao Serizawa-Kirishima every single day.   
  
Hiyori's voice pulls him from his thoughts. _"Nao said they'll probably come home for Christmas."_  
  
"That'd be nice." He loathes himself because Natsuya is ever sentimental even when Ikuya doesn't deserve it - but the reminder of that incident makes Ikuya feel better about his current situation. Natsuya was right back then, and he's most certainly correct now: Ikuya needs to take care of himself.  
  
_"Mm. Well, my manager is glaring at me right now so I should probably go."_  
  
"Okay, yeah. Don't be like me and be out of the job."  
  
_"Such a martyr, Ikuya. I'll wait most loyalty to follow in your footsteps."_  
  
"Nerd." 

* * *

Here's the thing about Hiyori, the thing about Ikuya, and the thing between them.   
  
They're not a couple. Does Ikuya know how to feel about that? No. Should he think about it as much as he does? Also no, but he's not one for sitting down for a thoughtful brew with his conscious, as exampled by his entire existence.   
  
Hiyori has always fascinated him. From the moment they met, he made Ikuya feel precious. That's a well-known fact and one that he will openly admit to, probably with a laugh just to make sure nobody takes it too seriously - you know, like the bone-deep truth.  
  
_Endeared,_ that's the word Nao used when he first saw Hiyori with Ikuya. _He's endeared by you._  
  
Their friendship is deep enough for Ikuya to know that Hiyori is clingy, unabashedly affectionate, and protective. Ikuya also knows that those aren't usually terms people use when describing their best friend. The two of them exist in a grey area that feels like it's been getting smaller and smaller for years - what they'll do when there's no space left to hide, Ikuya can't imagine.   
  
Hiyori already belongs to Ikuya without kisses, without labels or a serious conversation about their feelings. Once, at a party their third year, Ikuya drunkenly asked Hiyori why he didn't ask out that cute girl from chemistry who was clearly panting after him. Hiyori just looked at him and scoffed, _why would I do that?_ As if he already had what he wanted.   
  
But they're older now; twenty-four and twenty-five. Hiyori might not want a traditional life, but surely, Ikuya can't have all this attention forever. That panic has been quietly building in his chest for so long and every time Ikuya needs him like a lifeline, the feeling gets worse.   
  
That's why he's sulking, cross-legged on his bed, when Hiyori bursts into the house. Ikuya startles at the determined gait clomping across the kitchen, through the hallway, and into his room. He blinks wide-eyed at Hiyori, though the boy doesn't appear distressed. "Hey?"  
  
"Hi," Hiyori breathes. He's usually a little pale and haggard after work, and he smells stale in the way that eight hours in a cubicle does to a person. This vigor is different.   
  
Ikuya's surprise must show on his face because Hiyori grins down at the floor before dropping his satchel and flopping on the bed. He sighs rather dreamily. "I've been thinking."  
  
"Dangerous."   
  
"Mm, I know."  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Hiyori shakes his head. "I need to eat first, I'm starving."   
  
Ikuya nods and heads for the kitchen. "I waited for you so we can have dinner together."   
  
"Wah, so cute," Hiyori whines, and Ikuya elbows him for it.   
  
[Hiyori](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_H3Xju3vdcA) takes about four huge mouthfuls before leaning back, and he looks more serious than Ikuya's seen him in months. Hiyori purses his lips, then clears his expression. "First of all, how are you feeling?"   
  
Ikuya shrugs, moving his noodles around with his chopsticks. He pulls them into a swirl, makes a pitiful flower of some sorts. "I've been telling myself all evening I need to start applying places, but -" He shakes his head because there aren't words. "I'm so _tired,"_ he settles lamely.  
  
Hiyori's brows crease. "It wouldn't hurt to give yourself a few days, man. You haven't even had two consecutive days off in forever."   
  
"Yeah." He forces himself to eat a few bites. Confrontation has never been his thing and today was traumatizing in that aspect. "The manager didn't even try to stop me from leaving. I've never called out sick. Never complained even when it was justified."   
  
Hiyori smirks. "Is that Ikuya Speak for 'I'm the best employee they had'?"   
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
Hiyori chuckles. "You were. They fucked up. That's not your problem anymore."   
  
Those words are so validating, so liberating. "What were you so excited about when you came in?"   
  
Hiyori pushes his bowl away and sighs. He winces, rubs through his hair. "It's not that I'm excited. I've been thinking, is all."  
  
Concern prickles through him. "About what?"   
  
He's silent for a minute, then his gaze lifts from the table. He just looks at Ikuya for a moment and it seizes all the muscles in his chest. Hiyori parts his lips, glancing away. "I might have had a realization." He shoots Ikuya a playfully snobby look. "An epiphany of great philosophy, if you will."   
  
Ikuya grins shyly before Hiyori continues. His bravado fades and his body sags with raw, genuine exhaustion. "I don't feel very..." He picks at the edge of the table. "I'm not all that content with life right now."   
  
Dread knocks down his sternum. Is this it? Will this be the last time they are together as best friends with questionable affections?  
  
Ikuya fails to steel himself. Hiyori is about to say that he's met someone - a darling girl at the bakery who is adorably shy but smiles like a star, or maybe it's some bartender with strong arms and an attractive sense of family. Someone with their shit together; someone who knows how to cope and can offer Hiyori a galaxy of happiness and possibility.   
  
Will Ikuya no longer have the pleasure of wrestling with his feelings? God, he can't just _stop -_  
  
Ikuya swallows and tries very hard to keep his tone casual. "You mean like, you're not content with... you know, being alone? Or whatever."  
  
Hiyori startles, looking offended. "What? No." His face scrunches further. "What does that even mean? I'm not alone. I've got you."  
  
_Yes, in more ways than you know,_ Ikuya thinks. "Sorry."  
  
Hiyori scrutinizes him, shaken. "Where'd that even come from, Ikuya?"   
  
He almost gives Hiyori a look but instead shrugs. "You just won't tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Well." He considers, struggling to put words to his emotions. He makes sentences wrought with a pitiful attempt at humor. "If I'm being honest, I don't think it's bitchy for me to say that my job sucks. It's stable, I guess, but kind of not? The only real constant is that it's awful every day. It's a paycheck, but it's not fulfilling. I call hundreds of people a day, interrupting their lives, lying about the benefits of insurance plans or surveys. Like -" He barks a laugh. "It just makes me feel like shit inside, having to do that to people. Maybe it's not that serious, but I just hate it, man."   
  
Hiyori works his jaw before saying, "I called this old lady today. She let me talk and go through the script, but it was so weird, how quiet she was. Then I realized she was crying. Someone took the phone from her - her daughter - and told me that the lady's husband had died. Heart attack at work, not a month before he was set to retire. She said her mom only answered the phone because they thought I was the funeral home."   
  
Ikuya pales. "Oh my god."   
  
"Yep. I felt like the biggest ass in the world, and I told her that." Hiyori shrugs, unabashed. "I apologized to hell and back, told her I'd take the number off everyone's call list myself. I think the family understood that I was seriously sorry, but I'll feel shitty about that for a long time, Ikuya." A muscle ticks in his jaw and he tips his head back in exasperation. "My boss listened to the call, called me in his office. He reprimanded me for not asking the old lady when it would be a better time to call her."  
  
Ikuya scoffs and Hiyori nods, saying, "I was reprimanded for not harassing someone that had lost the love of her life." He takes a deep breath, suddenly looking nervous. "So, ah. When I tell you that I might have -" He grimaces, coughs. "Um. Kind of cussed him out a little and stormed out of the office like a goddamn drama, I hope you can understand."  
  
Ikuya stares, then leans forward with shy giddiness. "You quit?"   
  
"Technically, I left the property before security showed up, but either slash or." He smiles. "I shot him double birds on the way to the elevator and everything. It was _awesome."_  
  
"You're a rockstar, Hiyori," Ikuya preens. "Holy shit. Wow. I'm so proud of you."   
  
"Thanks." He nods to himself. "So, cheers. I'm unemployed with you now."  
  
"Yay," Ikuya drones as he takes a sip of warm tea. He sets the glass down on the table and hugs his hands around it. "What are you thinking of doing? I mean, what kind of job would be fulfilling to you?"  
  
Hiyori rolls his lips, thinking. "I've been considering that. I don't know right now, but I'm sort of realizing that this shitty feeling might be more than just frustration with work?" He leans forward, impassioned with indignation. "There's this post hole on the road I take to the market, right?" He shapes it in the air with his hands. "It's fucking huge and I tell myself every day that I need to miss it, but I'm dreading the day so much that I forget to actually drive around it and I hit that shit every time."   
  
Ikuya tries to understand, opting to simply listen. Hiyori tends to go on these imaginable tangents that only makes sense after one marinates on them for a few days. Hiyori professes, "That pot hole has become the center of my goddamn universe - besides you - because it embodies everything I'm feeling. My coping mechanisms are okay, like, I go to festivals or museums sometimes and I pick up new games, but man."   
  
Ikuya looks down, shocked that Hiyori's hands are trembling.   
  
The boy sighs, "I'm just... my god, Ikuya, this was all supposed to be _different."_ Hiyori's brows crease, desperate for him to understand. "You know? Like, finding a perfect avocado at the grocery store shouldn't be the highlight of my month."   
  
Ikuya smiles in bitter understanding. "I get it, yeah." Silence creeps from them, spreading through the house - his mother's house, where Ikuya only has a bedroom to his name and nothing else. The sorrow of failure leaves him heavy. "Lots of things were supposed to be different. But do you think we can change anything? Are we doing something wrong or is this just how it is?"  
  
Hiyori livens a bit. He lifts his chin, expression softening. "I'd like to find out, actually. I was wondering if you'd like to as well."   
  
Ikuya's brows jump. "Uh. Yeah, I guess. If it's possible."   
  
Hiyori slips his phone out, looking a bit embarrassed through his grin. "I was saving this for your birthday but..." He glances up at him in wavering vulnerability. "I think there might have been a reason why you and me kind of lost it at the same time. We probably both need this."  
  
Intrigued, Ikuya waits for Hiyori to turn the phone around and show him the screen. Ikuya blinks. "Plane tickets?"  
  
"Mmhmm." He's blushing.  
  
"Where's 'Homer'?"  
  
"Alaska. That's in the States, way north of California and -"  
  
"Hiyori!" Ikuya balks. "Why in the world do you want to go to _Alaska?"_  
  
He looks at Ikuya like it's obvious. "Because I thought you'd want to go."  
  
"But what - why would I want to go there? I've never mentioned it."   
  
"You've never mentioned Alaska, no, but you talk endlessly about space and shit. I thought you'd like seeing the Northern Lights." He makes a face. "It's not the only place in the world you can see them, but it was the cheapest. I would have liked to go through the lava tunnels in Iceland if we had went there. Can you believe there's stuff like that somewhere so cold? Fuckin' metal, man."   
  
Affection swarms him so fiercely that tears spring into his eyes. In the smallest, most heart-aching voice, he whispers, "You - you thought of that? Of the Northern Lights?"   
  
Hiyori's blush turns peachy. "Well, yeah. Course. Like I said, it was for your birthday, but I already sent an email and we can change the date for a _ridiculous_ fee, but like, I'm so ready to do it, Ikuya." His expression firms. "If I have to go back to my apartment and listen to my roommate fap his brains out through the wall, I'm gonna take a swan dive out the window. Swear to god." He sobers up, chews his lip. "So uh, if you wanna go with me, I think that'd be really fun, just getting away for a while."   
  
Ikuya parts his lips, hesitates. "When were you wanting to go?"  
  
"Plane leaves in the morning."  
  
His brain hollows, overwhelmed. He should be ecstatic and ready for this, but his anxiety never lets him react to anything so blindly. Neither of them have jobs to come back to, but neither of them really have a life to come back to, either.  
  
The reality hits him in the chest - it is sad and too harsh, too real, but the truth is hardly ever sweet, he supposes.   
  
Hiyori says, "I'd be with you the whole time." In a beat of fear, he admits, "I can't do this without you."  
  
Ikuya chews the inside of his cheek. He nods once. "Okay."   
  
Hiyori perks up. "Really?"   
  
He mulls it over, tries to nod but just shrugs instead. "I'm really scared, but we don't have anything else to do." Might as well make the most reckless and absurd decision possible.   
  
Hiyori's face lights up with a handsome grin. "Great." He pats Ikuya's hand over the table, tensing when Ikuya grabs it and hangs on for dear life. Hiyori's face softens and he winds their fingers together with a squeeze - Hiyori is his zenith in that moment.   
  
With exhaustion and earnest, Hiyori whispers, "Let's just go, Ikuya."   
  
Ikuya will go - despite the panic and that screaming in his head telling him he can't possible do this, he will go.

* * *

[ **+** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIVEAQfbI5w)

* * *


	2. appulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikuya stomps over to Hiyori's bed. "Move over." 
> 
> He's never stiffened up so quickly. "Hmm?"
> 
> "Move. Over." His fists are clenched like a child. "I'm sleepy." 
> 
> Hiyori hesitates before glancing at the bedside table. His eyes roam back to Ikuya. "Okay. Turn the lights off." 
> 
> Ikuya falters. Hiyori doesn't break their stare. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope anyone else like me who is enduring no pay isolation is doing all right through this concerning time, and i hope this provides a little escapism for you.

* * *

**appulse  
  
** 1\. the closest approach of one celestial body to another. 

* * *

Ikuya has never been to the airport before and he does not recommend the experience. In fact, if he had known what he would endure, he would have never got out of bed - he would have wallowed in his self-misery for a few days, found another retail job, and dragged through a bland life of customer service desks until he killed over alone at eighty. He would have been perfectly content with such an existence if it meant he would never have to step foot in the airport again.   
  
He's halfway through a panic attack in the bathroom at the airport, sweat dripping off his nose, and he is very literally blind with panic. It feels like he's being hit by a train over and over, reliving the horror of getting thrown in the air, but he just can't fall to the ground.   
  
Hiyori is in the stall with him, giving him water and earbuds to drone out the noise of more people than Ikuya's ever seen in his life. "I'll be fine," Ikuya repeats to himself, stammering, gritting it through his teeth. "I'll be fine," he tells Hiyori, _"I'll be fine, I'll be fine -"_   
  
"You will be absolutely fine," Hiyori promises, hands running up and down Ikuya's arms. "You're perfect and strong and it will all be okay." He adjusts Ikuya's earbuds and plays Toto's _Africa_ just to hear Ikuya startle a laugh.   
  
He listens to that goddamn song over and over through check-in and every other horribly complicated step to the plane. "We're on our way to an abandoned mall," Hiyori says, knowing he needs to make up a story to fit the song so Ikuya can think of something else. "The power is out but that song is still playing from somewhere. We need to find out where it's coming from."   
  
Ikuya desperately asks for a more intense visual. "Are there zombies?"   
  
"No, you've slayed every zombie in the world all by yourself and now we're just bored." Hiyori unlaces Ikuya's shoes for him and puts them on the belt for checking. "You met me, a rugged survivor with biceps the size of footballs, and now you can't get rid of me. I don't know if you're taking me to the mall to kill me or fuck me, but I'm willing to take the chance."   
  
Ikuya laughs. "Why would I kill you?"   
  
"This is a shattered-mirror universe, Ikuya, please experiment with some dualism."   
  
He is surprised by how much safer he feels on the plane; it is a narrow space, cramped with the odors of people and stale air, but he always feels safer in smaller places. "This is so cool," Ikuya beams, elated that he's in a window seat.   
  
Hiyori isn't as happy to be on the plane. It appears as they switched anxieties, and Hiyori is a disaster when the plane begins to take off. He chants "fuck, fuck, fuck" and vices Ikuya's hand, nearly pulling him full on into his lap. "Oh fuck, Ikuya -"   
  
[Ikuya](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTfeMhyyy5o) shoves the earbuds into Hiyori's ears, playing a classical piece with an ethereal remix. Hiyori looks at him and he's never worn such naked fear. Ikuya smiles, keeps his voice soft. "We're in a rocket ship, Hiyori. We're going to space."   
  
Hiyori's eyes dart to his lips then make a slow trail to Ikuya's nose. He touches it with a single finger for some reason, a silent declare that Ikuya is absolutely too sweet for words, and Hiyori holds his hand long past take off.   
  
The trip is fourteen hours to Homer but Ikuya has never enjoyed anything more. He curls up against the window, never turning away from the dancing clouds. They stretch and yawn, curling into tidal waves that the plane carves through. It is fall and the sunlight is red watercolor; Ikuya imagines himself floating through the endless sky and it feels like a memory, something he forgot.   
  
Hiyori does not enjoy the experience so thoroughly - he gets an earache and goes rigid at each jolt of turbulence. The most he relaxes is when he makes knots in the frayed denim of Ikuya's jeans, skittish fingers twisting the threads into braids.   
  
Ikuya keeps his face to the window as he mumbles, "I don't ever wanna come down from here. This feels like..." Emotion swells in his throat. "It feels like home."   
  
He feels Hiyori glance at him. "That's so beautiful Ikuya, but I've puked twice on this plane and I'm probably going to die up here."  
  
Ikuya turns to giggle, "I'm sorry. Really, I am."   
  
Hiyori cuddles up around Ikuya's waist - they're in the back of the plane, away from everyone, the rest of the world. He tucks his face into Ikuya's neck and groans, "Give me a kick ass viking funeral. Just throw me out of here, no parachute. I also want a sword, if you please."   
  
"Okay," Ikuya whispers, absently nuzzling against Hiyori's hair as he continues his observations on the live painting they're flying through.   
  
They land at six in the morning - Ikuya slept wonderfully on the plane, loving the sensation of being suspended so high above the world, but Hiyori sprints off the plane and states that they will be taking a sea pilgrimage back to Japan when the time comes. "We can go in a boat and learn how to fish so we don't have to deal with fire zombies when the time comes," he says.   
  
They get their bags and the moment they step out of the airport, Hiyori lands face-down in the snow. "Praise the fucking sun," he groans. "I'll never take gravity for granted again."   
  
"Your clothes will get wet, stand up," Ikuya tells him. He takes his first sweep of Alaska - there isn't much to see anywhere at four in the morning, but it is startlingly cold in a way he's never experienced. The air is crisp here, nearly sharp, and they might be in a city but something about the bleak darkness makes it feel like the wilderness.   
  
They manage to find the office for a rental car and Hiyori does all the talking but charm doesn't matter when there aren't that many cars available. Their choices are rugged vehicles by default, and their cheapest option comes in the form of a two-door '96 Jeep Wrangler.   
  
They stare at the old thing in various degrees of shock. "We're gonna die," Hiyori accepts.   
  
"They said it'd be fine though, right?" Ikuya sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "At least it's a pretty color." Blue has always comforted him.   
  
"The vehicle is sagging, Ikuya. It looks like it's melting."   
  
[They](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIozpDYwHGs&list=PLnpqZLGdN7RU-RjfO1_a5lsWblhhzur_j&index=6) cram their luggage in the trunk and blast the heater before taking off. "Okay." Hiyori shakes himself and squints in the wake of the headlights. It's not actively snowing, but it is _dark_. "First thing, I need an Advil or twelve. And a gallon of mouthwash."   
  
"So we'll be getting supplies today?" Ikuya goes to plug up his phone, then remembers that's not possible in an old vehicle. He pouts.   
  
"Right," Hiyori nods, pulling out onto the road. He drives carefully in fear of ice. "Apparently grocery prices get more extreme the norther you go, so maybe we should stock up while we're here."   
  
Ikuya scrolls through his phone, noticing that the tips of his fingers are already crackly dry and pale. "Are we driving to the Northern Lights?"   
  
"No, you can't really do that. We'll go from Homer to..." He pulls out his phone and checks Notes. "Homer to Kenai, Kenai to Primrose, Primrose to Alyeska, then Alyeska to Anchorage." He tosses the phone onto Ikuya's thigh. "Now, if our lives depended on it, we could get to Anchorage from here in a day, but daytime in Alaska is short this time of year - not as short as winter, but I'm not that comfortable driving at night, plus we've got about a week before we're scheduled to see the Northern Lights, so we can take our time and just drive some during the daylight hours."   
  
"I can drive too," Ikuya offers.   
  
"I know, but you like looking out the window. Just relax, yeah?"   
  
His chest warms.   
  
Hiyori continues, "Once we get to Anchorage, we'll have to take a train to Fairbanks. There's a boat that'll get us close to the Arctic Circle, where we'll have the best view of the Northern Lights." He takes a breath. "Or, if shit hits the fan for whatever reason, we can just find a guide in Fairbanks and try not to freeze to death on the way up there."   
  
Ikuya smiles, impressed. "You really did your planning."   
  
"Just trying to shoot some logic into the most insane thing I've ever done."   
  
Hiyori says they'll be staying in hotels throughout most of the trip - "I will not be losing this crowbar of a cock to frostbite" - and they check into their first hotel after they drive to the Kenai Peninsula. Ikuya reads on his phone that Kenai means "black bear" according to the Native American tribes local to the area. Once he learns that, he is outright paranoid, barking at Hiyori to watch for bears on the road.  
  
The hotel is a lonesome, brick building with chandeliers made of antlers. Ikuya hates that concept, but he's also quite intimidated by how big those horns are. On the way to the room, clamoring down a stale hallway, other guests pass by - construction workers dressed in grimy neon, and they stink of stale body odor. Ikuya glances up at the chandeliers and asks Hiyori, "Do you think we'll see a moose?"   
  
"The guy at the front desk told me it'd be hard not to see a moose while we're in Alaska. He also suggested we get some bear mace, even if we're not camping out."   
  
Ikuya stumbles. "Like, black bear mace?"   
  
"... I don't think bear mace is categorized by species."   
  
Irritation spikes his worry, and it shows on his face. Hiyori throws him a handsome grin as he keys open their door. "We'll be fine, babe. I'd roundhouse a bear for you."   
  
He says "babe" so casually that it's obviously a joke, but Ikuya can't even pull a breath because he loved hearing Hiyori say that. He desperately needs to hear it again, but he could never ask for it.   
  
Their room has a rustic 80's aesthetic: wood paneling and hunter-green carpet, a dusty fireplace, and lots of faded photographs of squirrels. It smells like mothballs. Ikuya's disappoint with seeing double beds instead of one is - concerning.   
  
Hiyori lets him have the first shower and he hopes that he isn't using all the hot water, but life is beginning to seep back into his frigid bones and a shower has never felt so good. Brief and fast, he thinks of telling Hiyori something corny, like they should just shower together to take advantage of the hot water. He could never joke so boldly. It wouldn't really be a joke, but Hiyori would take it as one.   
  
Right?   
  
He really shouldn't be thinking about such a prospect right now - not when he's alone and naked with Hiyori sprawled on a bed in the other room, wearing those sweatpants that have given Ikuya issues for at least two years now.   
  
After their showers and a necessary few minutes of scrolling through their phones, they have a western breakfast at a diner near the hotel. Afterward, they head to the outdoors store. It is a particularly warm fall in Alaska with sunny days, but with the abrupt darkness and forthcoming drop in temperatures, he needs better coats. They buy quilted jackets, fur hats and boots; he reads online to get some Vitamin D tablets and be aware of Seasonal Effective Disorder, but he doesn't suspect to have such a reaction to the drastic weather. Ikuya is infatuated with nighttime and it is an aspect of the trip he is excited for.   
  
Hiyori has far too much fun while the salesman tells him just how amazing the bear mace is. "It has a striking range of forty feet," Hiyori tells him on the way back to the Jeep. "Forty feet, Ikuya!"   
  
"You'll end up spraying yourself at some point," he sighs.   
  
They decide to spend the day at the national park and do a bus tour. Ikuya needs it, after the plane ride and being cramped in the Jeep. He brings his pink Polaroid and a water bottle; Hiyori brings three tamagotchis.   
  
"You're such a kid," Ikuya tells him as they take their seats on the bus. "What's the point of going on a trip if you're playing a game the whole time?"   
  
"I am these tamagotchis' sole provider and they depend on me." He switches out one key chain for the other. "Aah, Sakura needs to be played with. What a spoiled girl."   
  
Ikuya rolls his eyes and studies the rest of the group. They are a diverse group of people and he enjoys the thrum of the many languages spoken around him. There's elderly couples and newly-weds - at least he assumes that's what they are, by their tacky rhinestone hoodies that advertise as much.   
  
[He](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbcAvzlqVfw) jumps when there's a tap on his shoulder from the seat behind him, and then there's a disbelieving voice. _"Ikuya?"_  
  
Turning with a confused frown, he faces two men. One is merely curious while the other is slack-jawed and breathless. Uncomfortable, Ikuya greets the stranger. "Uh. Hey?"   
  
The redhead - the one who is winded - can't stop staring. Then he scoffs a laugh and slaps Ikuya's shoulder. "Holy shit, hey man! I can't believe this."   
  
Ikuya knows how impolite it would be to admit that he has no idea who this man is, but he can't make himself play along. "Hey," he repeats lamely. "Um, I'm really sorry, but how do I know you?"   
  
Hiyori looks up.   
  
The redhead scrunches his face. "You're kidding, right?"   
  
Embarrassed, Ikuya can only shake his head. "No..."   
  
The man realizes how serious he is and a twitch of disturbance crosses his face. "I'm Asahi. We swam together in middle school - we were like, best friends."   
  
Ikuya draws a blank. "Oh," he says, nodding though a terrible pressure is building in his head. He wavers. "I'm - I'm sorry, I've -" He bites the inside of his cheek. "I have a bad memory, I'm sorry."   
  
Asahi glances at the man beside him before clearing his throat. He shakes his head with a kind smile. "Hey, it's all right. It was a long time ago. How's Natsuya doin' these days?"   
  
Holy shit, this guy really _does_ know him - yet Ikuya can't recall a thing, not even a flash of memory. "He's doing well. Got married."   
  
"Yeah, I saw that on Instagram! Nao was a great senpai, I'm happy for them."   
  
Ikuya throws an _oh my god_ look at Hiyori and he takes the cue to get the fuck off his game and take care of this conversation. Hiyori blasts his most charming smile. "What brings you to Alaska, Asahi-san?"   
  
"Oh, ah." He ducks his head with a bashful laugh and glances at the guy beside him. "Me and Kisumi wanted to go somewhere different, is all." Ikuya glances down and realizes they're holding hands.   
  
The guy - Kisumi - smirks at Ikuya. "I went to middle school with you too. We used to eat lunch together."   
  
A headache pounds his temples. "Sounds nice," he says dryly.   
  
Hiyori asks, "Are you going to see the Northern Lights?"   
  
"Nah, we're actually gonna visit Haru and Makoto." He tenses. "They um, they were friends with you too, Ikuya, but - anyway, I think Haru came out here after high school. He's always been introverted, so he likes the wilderness. Makoto got his degree in Tokyo and now he teaches online from Denali."   
  
"What a quaint little life," Hiyori says in a backhanded sort of way.   
  
The bus starts up and Ikuya takes that as his chance to politely end the conversation. He turns around in his seat and rapidly fans out his shirt, cold sweat all itchy on his chest. His pulse thuds in his throat.   
  
Hiyori nudges his knee but Ikuya can't look at him; his teeth stay gritted and his eyes are firm on the mountain tops, where they are pale with snow and impossible to survive. He stares up there like it's a goal, a destination made only for him - a place that understands his need to get away, away, away from this situation, and forget what he should remember. 

* * *

Evening doesn't exist in Alaska, Ikuya finds. When they get off the bus, it's daytime, and when he and Hiyori arrive at the diner by their hotel, darkness falls like he's never witnessed. It is apocalyptic, like he may never see the sun again, and that comfort puts Ikuya back into his own body - if only a little.   
  
He was lucky to escape the bus trip without talking to Asahi for hours; the guy has no sense of social cues nor when to end a conversation. After the tour, they exchanged social media handles before Hiyori swept in like the true knight he is and got Ikuya out of there.   
  
Ikuya scrolls through Asahi's Instagram as he and Hiyori wait on their food to arrive. Ikuya goes through Asahi's story feed and says, "I swear, I've never seen this dude in my life."   
  
Hiyori finishes his second root beer float with winter-kissed cheeks and his eyes closed in happy crescents. "Maybe he's a stalker."   
  
Ikuya shoots him a pout. "Don't joke about that."   
  
His grin sobers up. "It was a really long time ago, if you actually did know him in middle school. And maybe you weren't as close as Asahi thought. Everyone thinks they're my friend but very few have the privilege."   
  
Ikuya rolls his eyes and continues scrolling. His voice softens. "I keep trying so hard to think back and it's just - it's not there." He looks up. "But that one name... Haru." Just saying it causes a dull flash in his mind, somewhere. "I remember something about him but I don't know what. I feel like he was special." His nails drag up and down the back of his phone, antsy. "Should I have asked Asahi more about him?"  
  
"No," Hiyori says quickly, surprising Ikuya. "Well, I don't..." He winces, trying to stay gentle. "I don't want you to spiral if you don't remember anything about Haru, either." He cocks his head. "Those intense feelings you get about forgetting things - maybe they happen for a reason. Maybe your memories with Asahi and Haru aren't good ones."  
  
Ikuya shakes his head. "It doesn't feel like that, though. I really do think Haru was important."   
  
"What, like, you had a crush on him?"  
  
"I mean, maybe, but -"  
  
Hiyori lifts his brows as Ikuya freezes to the core. Blackness eats at his vision and he stammers, "I, um. No, I don't have crushes." _On guys. On you._   
  
Hiyori steeples his fingers on the table with a dry brow raise. "You're more exceptional than I assumed, then, if you've never had a crush in your life." He fixes Ikuya with a stare. "On girls _or_ guys." He lifts his chin. "Cause I have."   
  
Ikuya opens his mouth, closes it. His brows scrunch over a glare and Hiyori chuckles, blush deepening like it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. 

* * *

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_H3Xju3vdcA&list=PLnpqZLGdN7RU-RjfO1_a5lsWblhhzur_j&index=2&t=0s) walk from the Jeep to the hotel is crippling - Hiyori takes Ikuya into his arms so they may endure the trudge through the snow. They hobble to their room on frozen legs and once they're inside, Hiyori laughs all of a sudden. He sweeps the back of his hand across Ikuya's cheek before pinching it. "You got wind-burned."   
  
Warmth drops into Ikuya's gut, stomach dipping. He pushes Hiyori's fingers away softly. "Your hands are cold," he grumbles.   
  
Hiyori attempts to start a fire after they've changed into their pajamas, and of course, those sweatpants are back to ruin Ikuya's innocence. He busies himself by looking through the Polaroid photos Hiyori took on their bus trip: a gathering of strange mushrooms that look like white pine cones; a blurry shot of some goats. There's a few pictures of Ikuya gazing out the window, eyes turned upwards at the mountains.   
  
He startles when Hiyori flops on the bed. The aroma of cinnamon logs clings to him, though he wasn't able to start a fire. Hiyori reaches across Ikuya to grab the room phone. "There's too much ash built up to spark a flame -"  
  
Ikuya shakes his head. "We should be okay without a fire. There's a thermostat, anyways. " He doesn't want to deal with a stranger coming in when his social meter is below empty.   
  
Hiyori stretches out on the mattress, shirt hiking up to give a devastating peek at the sharp line of his hips. "You sure?" He sounds privately hopeful, already looks all supple and sleepy.  
  
Ikuya swallows. "Yeah, it's fine."   
  
"Kay." He rolls to his feet with a lazy scratch at his belly, then flops onto his own bed. "Night night."   
  
"Night," Ikuya breathes, gaze darting to drink him in while Hiyori's eyes are closed. He takes a big inhale, shoves the photos to the other side of the bed, and turns off the lamp to bury his heated face in a pillow.   
  
Through the night, Ikuya tries to get comfortable on the mattress, waiting for his body temperature to heat up the blankets. His feet are like ice and his muscles are tense, chilled. He throws on a hoodie but the fabric is cold, making it all worse.   
  
Gradually, he croaks into the dark. "Hiyori?"  
  
He's still awake. "Yeah?"  
  
"I think the heater is broken."   
  
"No shit. I'm about to lose my third finger."   
  
Ikuya pushes upright and hugs himself around the middle. "Should we go tell someone at the front desk?"  
  
Hiyori flicks on the lamp and Ikuya stops breathing. His friend is hiked up on an elbow, face all pink, hair disheveled like he was just fucked. Hiyori says something and blinks when Ikuya doesn't answer.   
  
He crashes back into his own body. "Sorry, what?"   
  
"I said, there's nobody at the front desk at this hour. Quote: we're screwed, babe."   
  
Ikuya huffs and shimmies out of the blankets to crouch at the fireplace. Hiyori was right - the fireplace probably hasn't been cleaned in years and Ikuya is too cold for such patience.   
  
Hiyori says, "I'll be okay, but I know you get whiny when you're sleepy." Ikuya shoots a glare over his shoulder and Hiyori grins all smug. "Case in point."  
  
Ikuya stomps over to Hiyori's bed. "Move over."   
  
He's never stiffened up so quickly. "Hmm?"  
  
"Move. Over." His fists are clenched like a child. "I'm sleepy."   
  
Hiyori hesitates before glancing at the bedside table. His eyes roam back to Ikuya. "Okay. Turn the lights off."   
  
Ikuya falters. Hiyori doesn't break their stare.   
  
Righting himself, Ikuya does as he's told and hears Hiyori flip the covers back. He slides onto the mattress, stiff as a board when Hiyori drops the blankets over him. Ikuya lies on his back and stares up into the cold dark, not sure how to move. Hiyori is still propped on his elbow, probably still watching him.  
  
Frazzled, Ikuya says, "You're like, three feet away."  
  
When Hiyori doesn't move, Ikuya rolls onto his side, reaching backward to pull Hiyori closer. Hiyori stops him with a firm hand on Ikuya's lower back, but his startled words are not so bold. "Wait, I'm -"  
  
Ikuya already felt it. His heart races in the silence.   
  
Weakly, Hiyori says, "It's just because it's so cold."  
  
"Yeah," he chirps, near-faint. "Yeah, I know."  
  
Hiyori sighs and shoves a pillow against his crotch before dragging Ikuya into him. "There." Hiyori's arms laze around him, one thrown over Ikuya's shoulder to hug his chest, the other nestled on his hip. He rests his cheek against Ikuya's shoulder, nuzzling in to get comfortable. "You're so tense. You really can't handle the cold, can you?"   
  
Ikuya's never been more rigid, toes curled, shoulders bunched. He can't believe this is happening. Why did he do this? This was a mistake, there's nowhere to hide, this is -  
  
Hiyori inhales against his hair and sighs out warmth right behind Ikuya's ear. At that feeling, he bristles with one last wave of tension before slumping. He nestles back against a firm chest, feels Hiyori's heart bang against his shoulder. Both of Ikuya's hands find Hiyori's arm and he hugs it tighter against his front, curls his legs up and lets Hiyori run a brief, affectionate pattern across his thigh.   
  
"You're so warm," Ikuya sighs.   
  
There's a weak smirk in his voice. "It's only because you're so cold."   
  
"No." His stubbornness bleeds into darkness. "No, it's not." 

* * *

[In](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkveOEpA-Z0) this dream, he is young and far from Alaska.   
  
Ikuya knows it is not a nightmare, for the stars are out and they have never been closer. They are not near enough to touch, but they are floating in their descent, and they promise that they will reach his hand soon.   
  
The pool reflects all the unnatural colors of the sky - purples and silver that flare into liquid green. The emerald color narrows, streaks into a beam of light that falls right between Ikuya and the boy he stands across from.   
  
Blue eyes are wide, black hair is tangled in the wind. He's reaching through that beam of light with fingers opened for Ikuya to _stop, don't -  
  
_ A crazed determination takes hold and Ikuya grabs the boy's hand.   
  
The wind swoops still. The stars freeze. Satisfied.   
  
Then that boy shouts and a light so bright and sharp pierces them both.   
  
Ikuya jolts upright out of Hiyori's bed with a guttural scream that could carry across cities, oceans, worlds, and not so far away in Denali, blue eyes fly open without a sound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not trying to spoil anything but keep in mind that in canon, ikuya remembers things that occurred with haru as kids, but not hiyori. i'm keeping the line between canon and au purposefully blurred so that you may have a better understanding of ikuya's memory situation. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you think and please above all else stay safe as you can during this virus.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading; i hope you enjoyed. please let me know what you think. <3 next chap will be soon. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


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